Moving On
by JunkoTheHatter
Summary: She's found her future, and he's not apart of it. Jacob/Miranda. Oneshot. AU.


I don't know how to feel.

I don't know how to feel. I don't want to feel. I'd prepared myself for this so many times. I'm not good enough for her, she's so special, and she doesn't deserve a man like me. But somehow, I'd put it all aside. Concentrated on my job, not women.

Ha, I say women, like I know what I'm talking about.

There's only ever been one woman.

And I took her for granted.

Just goes to show how useless I am.

Why didn't I ever just tell her? Maybe then I wouldn't feel so miserable, so powerless. It hurts so much more when I realize I could have changed things, just by saying three words. It's really cliché. Which is strange, because she's everything but.

I don't think there's ever been a day when I haven't thought about her. When I see a sweep of black hair, my heart leaps, every part of me wishing that just this once, it'll be her…When I wake up from a dream, wishing that just this once, it could be true, it could be real. When I see her face in my mind as clear as if she we're right there next to me. When I pretend that she's beside me, a hand on my cheek, brushing at my scars, her other hand gently grasped in mine.

It's been three years since I've seen her.

I wonder if she's different.

Apparently she's been traveling a lot. She never told me, but I knew that was something she'd always wanted to do. Four walls would never be able to contain someone like her.

Someone like her.

She helped me so much more than she'll ever know.

During the last battle.

I could see her. In my mind. The buildings were aflame, I could smell burning flesh, that acrid smell that I couldn't get out of my mind for days, but somehow, I couldn't see the chaos around me. There were no Reapers, no Banshees, no Marauders, no Ravagers, nothing. I couldn't even hear the terrified screams around me. It didn't perforate me like it used to. Because all I could see was this woman. This woman who everyone shunned, the one they all thought was a bitch.

I don't know exactly what happened, but somehow…I felt my whole chest tighten, and then suddenly burst. I thought I was dying, I thought that was the end of it all. They'd killed me. I was sure. But then, I was alive. I felt my shields recharge, courage coursing through me.

I don't like to think about what happened then. Most people regard it as some amazing event, to be remembered forever, to be passed down through generations - the day the Reapers left. I don't think I want that. I don't want greatness.

I used to think I did. I used to want the glory Commander Shepard seemed to glow with. I wanted to live up to my name, to make my dad proud, to be remembered in all the history books. But it turns out that all I ever wanted is so much simpler than all that.

Her.

The one thing I will never have.

I never thought that a simple email could evoke such emotions within me. The words don't look right, as though they've been forced into the wrong shapes and are aching to be corrected.

I move the email into the waste bin of my data pad.

**…**

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. Liam Beattie and Miss Miranda Lawson.  
__1st July 2189 1pm  
__RSVP via email._

**…**

I don't want to go. I can't. I would just end up sitting there, watching, screaming inside of my head.

And I wouldn't dream of inviting her to my wedding.

Mainly because every single time I've imagined myself marrying, she's always been the bride.

I know exactly how pathetic I sound right now. I'm like some teenage boy whose got a crush on the prettiest, most popular girl in school. Except I'm not a teenager, I'm a 32-year-old man, I work in security now, I have my own apartment, I earn good money, I have friends.

But it's her.

I thought I'd be able to move on without her. I told myself that I would be able to forget her, that I'd find and get married to a nice girl I met at the bar, and we'd have kids together, and they'd go to school, and become successful in their lives. And we'd be a family.

Now she'll have all that without me.

I hate to think of her with someone else. I don't trust any other man with her besides me. Surely, no one else can begin to realize just how special she is. No one else can understand her like I did. I can't imagine anyone else staring at her from across the mess hall when they're supposed to be listening to whatever Kelly is saying. Watching her strut across the halls, except she doesn't strut, that's just how she walks. The way she stares steadily into your eyes when she's explaining something no one will ever understand. The way her teeth ever so slightly protrude from her mouth, as if she's nibbling her lip. Surely, no one else could've noticed all these little things about her.

I wonder if Liam's eyes met hers across a crowded room, as ours had so many times before.

I wonder if then, he beckoned her over, and she came, smiled at him, while he told her a funny joke and made her laugh.

She never used to laugh at my jokes.

Probably because they weren't funny.

I wonder if then, after a while, he bent down, and kissed her gently, and she stood on her tip toes to kiss him back, and he ran his fingers through her hair, and she laughed again, and he pulled away, smiling, before leaning in again.

I wonder if he took her home, and continued the kissing on his bed.

I wonder if they undressed each other slowly, never breaking their gaze, before sleeping with each other.

I don't want to think about it.

I don't want to think about her.

Not when she isn't with me.

I can't go to the wedding.

I can't watch her, smiling her smile, as he slides a ring onto her long, delicate finger. I can't watch her eyes shine as she realizes she's finally married, and I can't throw confetti. I can't get wasted at the reception, and make a speech about how lucky they are to have stumbled into one another.

I wish I had been the lucky one.

I can't go.

I can't.

**…**

So why am I walking up the path to her front door? She bought her own house, or it might be his, I'm not really sure. The house is old looking, made of red bricks, and the front door is painted a sapphire blue. It reminds me of the sea.

I check my wrist watch. 12 o'clock, noon. The wedding is supposed to start in about an hour. Talk about leaving it late, Taylor.

But I don't even remember what I've left late. I don't even know why I'm here. Maybe it has something to do with all the whiskey I'd downed last night, and then the other three this morning.

And the old photo I couldn't stop looking at.

But here I am. I am about to knock on this blue door, which I see is carved with intricate patterns, and the only thing that I can think about is what if she opens the door? What if she looks at me and sees me waiting for her, wanting her.

I don't think I want to see her. And yet sometimes, I want that more than anything.

But then it'll break me even more when she tells me how excited she is that she's getting married to someone else.

I can hear someone talking inside the house. I think it's him. A low rumbling buzz, with small bouts of silence where I think someone might be replying.

Suddenly, the door is open. I'm staring straight into the face of the man I should hate more than anything in the universe.

He's shorter than me but only by two or three inches. He has bright red hair that falls over his forehead and his eyes are a light blue color.

"Did you come for the wedding?" he asks, his voice is very friendly. And it's full of excitement.

I lightly nod, forcing a smile onto my face. I can't bring myself to dislike him, I just can't. Useless Jacob strikes again. I can't even hate him properly.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit," he told me, glancing at a heavy-looking watch on his wrist, "I'm ready to go, but the women haven't even started yet."

"Women," I say in a mocking tone.

"Yeah," he smiles, "Can't live with them, can't live without them."

When in doubt, stick a cliché in there. Works almost every time.

I laugh, maybe a little too loud, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Anyway, I have to go. Miranda doesn't want me to see her wedding dress yet."

I wish that my chest wouldn't collapse at the sound of her name.

"See you at the wedding," he says, walking down the garden path. I wait until he's out of sight before resuming my vigil on the door.

I don't know what I'm expecting to happen. I don't know if I'll be brave enough to go inside, or if she'll see me and call off the wedding.

It starts raining. Tiny droplets begin to pepper the stone walkway. I stay outside until everything is wet, pulling my jacket around me tightly. The weather compliments my mood.

"Shit!" I hear a woman's voice exclaim from above my head, "It's raining!"

"It's fine," a crisp british voice replies, "It'll probably stop before the ceremony."

It's her. I can hear her. I've heard her. She's there. Literally feet away from me. If only I could muster up the courage to open the door and go see her, just to check and make sure I didn't imagine her. I want to so badly…

No wonder she prefers Liam over me.

I lean all my weight against the door. The hangover has started to kick in, I realize. I should go home.

I'll just wait five more minutes then I'll go home. I'll wait until the rain stops.

I can hear the door creaking ominously. Damn it. I try to straighten up, but it's already too late. I managed to force the door open. Liam obviously didn't lock the door properly. What an idiot.

No. I'm the one who's an idiot. There's no point in lying to myself.

Now I'm lying sprawled in the middle of the hallway in the tiny house, a vase with a single lily smashed and leaking water beside me. Maybe they didn't hear it, I think to myself, and I quickly pick myself up and brush the tiny fragments of glass off my jacket. I can hear soft footsteps in the distance, a woman's voice calling.

It's Oriana, her short black hair is curled in a complicated manner that, as a man, I am too ignorant to really appreciate properly, holding a flimsy dress around herself.

"Jacob!" she smiles, "You're early! The wedding doesn't start for another hour!"

Then her face changes dramatically, as if she's just now realized something. I can practically feel her staring at my wet clothes, the dark shadows under my eyes. I slowly become aware of the stench of whiskey on my breath.

"Oh, Jacob…" she mutters, her eyes becoming sad, "I'm…I…I don't really know what to say…"

I don't either. I never actually planned on making it into the house.

"I didn't think you'd come," she says, walking slowly towards me, holding out her arms for a hug. I stay still, rigid, as her arms enclose around me.

"You can leave if you want," she whispers into my ear, her arms still awkwardly wrapped around me, "I won't tell anyone that you've come."

I stay still as she pulls away.

"Do you _want _Miranda to know you're here?" she asks, nibbling on her lip.

I shrug slightly, so slightly that it looks accidental.

"Well?" Oriana continues.

"I don't know," I reply, my voice sounding hoarse, "I didn't think...I never wanted…I guess I want…"

"Sit down," she says, gesturing to green couch in the other room. I sit, and she sits down right next to me. I hate how her eyes are so full of pity. Pity for the man who can't even tell someone he loves her.

"Look, Jacob," she starts. Her eyes feel like they're burning a hole through me. I can't bring myself to look at her. It's hard to concentrate on anything.

"Oriana!" I hear a voice call from upstairs. It's Miranda.

"Yeah?" Oriana shouts back, giving me a sympathetic look.

"Can you help me sort something out?"

Oriana sighs, before standing up.

"I'll only be a second…" she tells me, patting my arm affectionately.

I watch her head upstairs before examining the pictures on the wall opposite of me. There is a posed picture in front of a huge rock formation, _her_ head on _his_ shoulder. He looks almost surprised, yet pleased all the same. There's so much intimacy, so much love, that I want to rip the picture in two and burn the pieces.

Wait. That's me.

It's a different picture of course, but it's still me. My face is a little less weathered, and my scars from the battle are gone. I look a little sad, but happy at the same time. And I'm holding Miranda bridal style, while her head is thrown back and she's laughing, her black hair swaying as it hangs from her head. It looks like Shepard's apartment in the background, when he'd had that party. But I don't remember this picture being taken at all...

I don't think I knew that I loved her then. Not really. She was just that one bitch who left me a few years back.

Except I never really thought that at all. I never thought that she was cold, even though she was. She was exactly who she wanted to be.

And I admired her greatly for that.

"Jacob…"

I turn around, my face going slightly red.

"Erm, Jacob?" Oriana starts nervously, "Miranda wants to talk to you."

My mouth suddenly becomes dry, and as I look down at my hands, I notice that I've clenched them into fists.

"How'd she know I was here?" I say, my voice sounding raspy, concentrating on the pattern the wood makes on the floorboards below me.

"She heard me say your name…" she replies, guiltily.

I don't know if I can talk to her. What am I supposed to say? Hey, Miranda, congratulations for your big day, but here's something to consider - why don't you leave Liam, and take me instead?

"Okay," I murmur.

"She's upstairs, first door on the left."

I stumble blindly up the stairs, gripping the handrail so hard that my knuckles lighten in color. One, two, three, four…How many more steps until I see her after all these years? It can't be too many now. Yet, I find myself wanting to walk up these stairs forever, until her memory leaves me and I can be completely free.

But suddenly I'm walking into thin air, and the stairs I've climbed are all behind me, and there's nothing left to do but walk up to that door and knock.

I do so, my knuckles knocking against the wood softly, hoping with every fiber of my being that she's not in there, but at the same time, excited for her to open the door. It's been three years, I've been counting each terrible day, and in a few seconds, I'll see her again.

The door swings open, and there she is.

Miranda.

She's right there, in front of me.

And I can't think of anything to say, even though there are a million thoughts running through my head.

She's wearing a pure white dress, the bodice is embroidered with pearly beads forming little flowers, and a transparent white fabric is draped around her shoulders and tucked away into the top of the dress. Her hair is exactly as I remember it, loose, but it's longer. Her top layers are tied back into an elegant bun, her lower layers are curled and remained untouched as they cascaded down her back.

She looks perfect. Just as amazing, unique, and special as she's always been.

"You're staring at me, Jacob," she says, and the sound of her voice makes me smile.

"Sorry…" I murmur, but I continue to take in every detail of her appearance, because soon I won't be allowed to look anymore.

"I missed you!" she sighs, enveloping me in a hug. For a moment, I remain still but I soon hold her close to me. She's here, and I'm here, and I'm touching her, I'm holding her, and if only there was a way to keep living this moment forever…

But all too soon, she pulls away from me and looks at me carefully.

"Your scars aren't as prominent as they used to be," she comments, fingering a dark line above my brow, "It's a shame, really. I actually really liked them."

"Why?" I stutter, my forehead feeling tingly from where she touched it.

"They reminded me of how well you fought," she answered simply.

"Oh," I say, smirking. I'd never thought of it like that.

She removes her hand from my face and walks over to the window. I follow, my legs trembling with each step.

"Look," she points out the window. There are chairs arranged neatly in rows, all facing an arch made completely of flowers, each a different type, color, and size.

"I'm getting married today," she states inconsequentially, not looking at me.

"I know," I say, feeling my heart burst in my chest.

There is a long pause.

"Jacob?" Miranda asks, suddenly close to me, eyes wide.

"Yeah?"

"Would you marry me? If you could…"

It's so unexpected that I almost stumble backwards.

I want to say yes. I want to kiss her. I want to hold her and tell her yes a million times. I want to be the one she says "I do" to. A million times more than Liam ever could, than any man ever could. But instead, I force an amused grin onto my face and shake my head, feeling the burning at the back of my eyes that warns me that if I don't do something to stop myself, I'll be crying.

"Oh," she says quietly, sounding hurt, "Really?"

"No," I mutter, my hands becoming cold and clammy. She jerks her head upwards, her eyes suddenly wide.

"Really, Jacob, really?" she replies, almost excitedly, clasping her hands to her chest in a most un-Miranda like way.

"Yeah," I mumble, seemingly examining the floor. I can't believe this is real. She can't know…I didn't tell her…this is all a surreal dream. I'll wake up in the Alliance barracks with my blankets all kicked off me. I won't have met Miranda, she's just an illusion in this dream. She never existed. The Reapers never existed, and my parents were both still with me. In this alternate reality, there's no pain, no suffering, no hammering in my chest when I see her…

But I realize that I wouldn't have it any other way. I have her with me now, she's real, I can see her, and touch her, and kiss her. If I had the courage like I used to.

But I don't need it. She's leaning closer, and I almost feel like laughing and crying all at the same time, because I know this won't be as perfect, can't be as perfect as it always used to be.

But it is, and she is, and she's kissing me, and it's wonderful, and I can't breathe, and I don't care. Maybe, just maybe if I could suffocate, I'll be able to stay here forever in the afterlife. With her, and her lips, and her kiss…She's closer to me than ever before, body and soul. She's chosen me, for once in my life I'm wanted, and it feels almost as good as the gentle rhythm with which she kisses me…

But far too soon, it's all over, and I realize that my lips are embarrassingly still puckered as she looks at me quizzically, her hands on my chest.

"What's wrong, Jacob?" she asks, as innocently as if she hadn't just kissed me a few seconds ago.

"You kissed me…" I murmur, more to myself than to her.

She nods, biting her lip.

"I used to want to kiss you every time I saw you," she whispers, as though to guard the fact from anyone who might be listening.

"Me too…" I reply, and suddenly I realize that this is one of these moments that can make or break a life, and whatever I do in these next few seconds will determine what happens in my life from now on. I can see the two paths I could take, as clear as anything, and I know which one I want to follow, but the other one makes more sense and I know that it's the one I should follow.

It would be so easy just to kiss her again…but she doesn't want me to, I know it. She doesn't truly want me, not really. I'm the past, and she has a future all ready for her in the garden, and I will not be apart of it.

"You have Liam now…" I reply, even though it almost breaks me to say it.

"Yes."

She nods, making her hair sway.

"You and Liam…" I swallow, "You're getting married today."

I feel somewhat patronizing, as if I'm talking to a child, but it's more to myself than to Miranda. She is getting married today. She will. I'm not going to stop that.

"Yes," she repeats, and smiles broadly, "You're going to watch, right?"

"Yeah, sure," I reply, and as she launches herself towards me in a friendly hug, I let her, and I hold her, something inside me finally starting to accept.

**…**

It was a beautiful wedding. The rain stopped long before it began, and the fallen raindrops on the leaves and flowers made everything sparkle. Fitting. But it honestly was a perfect wedding. And that's saying something, coming from me. Considering that I wanted to prevent it from happening all together a few hours ago.

And now I'm standing by the garden fence, watching them dance.

They seem to fit together somehow. I'm sure that if I saw them apart, they wouldn't look completely right. I guess that's what happens when you're perfect for someone. You come as a package. They're MirandaAndLiam now. And if I'm going to be completely honest with myself, that fits as well. It just works.

I still can't help but wish it was me, though.

Nothing like a wedding to help the pessimism kick in.

It sounds so pathetic, and so disgusting on my tongue, but I doubt I will ever find someone like that. She was the only one I've ever felt anything for. Anything real.

He's kissing her now, and I can't help but reflect on it all.

Love. Marriage. Babies.

Maybe I could have had it. With Miranda. We could have had it all.

Now she'll have it all without me.

I'm so engrossed in my own thoughts that I don't even notice anyone beside me.

"Hi."

I turn around to find a plain yet sort of pretty woman looking at me, frowning.

"I've said hi to you about five times now!" she says, and I'm horrified at myself for my complete lack of social skills, but then she smiles, and I can tell that she's friendly and genuinely wants to talk to me.

"Sorry," I say, smiling in spite of my resolve to remain miserable.

"It's fine, I'm like that as well, sometimes. You do remember me, right?"

"I can't really say that I do. Am I supposed to?"

"It's me, Brynn Cole? We met during our work at Cerberus. Then you helped protect me and my group on Gellix?"

Oh, of course. I guess that I didn't recognize her without her short hair.

She looks very different now.

"Oh, sorry. Yeah, I know who you are."

We talk for a little while, mainly what we've been up to for the past few years after the Reapers left. She confesses that she always thought I'd work in security, which I have to say, makes me smile.

"Me?" I reply confused.

"Well, yes, of course. You were very brave back on Gellix and the way you fought the Reapers on Earth…was amazing."

Should a man of 32 blush when he receives a compliment?

"I guess…" I murmur, secretly grateful for the boost in confidence.

"Why do you always put yourself down, Jacob?" she asks, and I don't really know the answer, "I mean, you're a hero!"

"Thanks," I say quietly, and she laughs.

"You haven't really changed all that much, have you?" she says, tilting her head slightly.

"No, I guess not," I laugh back and any awkwardness that there was between us instantly dissolved into nothingness.

"Jacob?"

I turn away from Brynn to find Miranda tapping on my shoulder. And for once, I don't feel as though I'm going to be sick from all the nerves. It feels normal.

"I have a present for you," Miranda says, holding out a small rectangular parcel wrapped inconspicuously in brown paper, but tied with bright blue ribbon.

"Thanks," I say, smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time.

"It's nothing," she replies, and before I open it she struts back to Liam, and they resume their slow dancing, her arms draped around his neck.

I look away, and divert my attention to the package I'm holding. I carefully tear off the paper, stuffing the ribbon into one of my jacket pockets. For whatever reason, I want to keep it.

"Do you want me to find a trashcan for the paper?" Brynn asks. I'd actually almost forgotten that she was there. I nod, and she takes the crumpled paper from my hand and heads into the house. I look down and see the photograph I looked at on the wall earlier, the one of Miranda and me. The photo me looks a little happier now, though, more secure in himself. Or maybe I'm just seeing it that way.

The photo looks to be loose from the frame, its corners dog-eared. I set the frame down on a nearby table after removing the photo, and attempted to smooth it out a little. And that's when I saw it.

On the back of the photo there are words.

**…**

_Jacob Taylor and Miranda Lawson.  
__Shepard's Party  
__I loved you._

**…**

And even though my heart should be aching from the missed opportunity, I feel…fine. The past is the past, I think, as I tenderly trace Miranda's curled handwriting delicately with my finger. She loved me. Someone loved me. Someone who I loved, loved me too.

I notice her watching me, her head on Liam's shoulder. She smiles at me, almost apologetically, but just as sweetly as every other time. Only now, it doesn't make me feel weak at the knees. Something has definitely changed. I'm happy.

Because I realize that all I needed was closure.

To know it was over. To know that we both needed to move on. She's found her future.

And maybe it's a bit early to say this, but I think I see my future walking towards me, her curly black hair that's so different to Miranda's but still beautiful as it glints in the sun.

"So, what did she give you?" Brynn asks me.

Was her smile always so…nice…before? I can't believe I never noticed.

"Just a photo," I reply, slotting it gently back into it's frame. I know exactly where I can place it in my apartment.

"Well, that was really nice of her," she says. I hand the photo to her, and she examines it carefully.

"Jacob? Were you and Miranda ever…a couple?" she asks, and I know the answer without even thinking.

"We were. But it just never worked out."

Brynn tilts her head to one side again.

"Well, do you want to dance?"

And I honestly think I do.

So I let Brynn take my hand and lead me to the dance floor, and I let her place her hands on my shoulders, and I place mine on her waist before we start to dance slowly. It feels awkward, and I feel a little clumsy, but Brynn doesn't seem to care. She keeps smiling, shyly ducking her head when I notice.

She's different from Miranda in almost every possible way.

But she's everything I need.

So as the song ends, I kiss her softly, in a way I never thought I could again. And she's not Miranda. She never will be.

But I could most definitely let myself fall in love with Brynn.

They say you never forget your first love. And Miranda Lawson was my first love.

But that doesn't mean she'll be my only.

All I needed was to move on.

**Fin.**


End file.
